


Reports

by Flammenkobold



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Gen, Pre-Slash, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23792584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/pseuds/Flammenkobold
Summary: Zolf is the last to report. But that's not what matters so much as finding ways to thaw Wilde's stone cold demeanor.
Relationships: Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Reports

Zolf closes the door behind himself, the last to report, making sure that the others really told Wilde everything they know and verifying their story - more than giving a full account himself.

Wilde looks up from his papers, his eyes as sharp and unyielding as stone, his face still as a mask.

"So..." Zolf says and shuffles his feet. He never likes it when Wilde goes like this, not when it seems to take him longer every time to shake himself out of it.

"So." Wilde echoes, and Zolf watches the careful mask not crumble but slowly giving way to a look of bone deep tiredness, he emphasizes with all too well.

Wilde waves for him to sit down with one elegant hand. 

"Drink?" he offers and Zolf lets out a sigh of relief. 

"Yes, that would be appreciated." 

Wilde gives him a curt nod, but Zolf can see his shoulders drop. He gets up just as Zolf makes himself comfortable in the chair and brings out a half full bottle of brandy, a remnant from several months past. He pours only one glass for Zolf and walks around the desk to hand it to Zolf, rather than staying behind the flimsy barrier the desk offers. A small sign of trust, but an important one in Zolf's book.

"Thank you." Zolf takes the glass out of Wilde's hand and their fingers briefly touch. Wilde's fingers are cold and Zolf makes a mental note to make sure he eats properly and to make a fire if necessary. Meanwhile Wilde studies his face carefully, his eyes flicker over the scar, and Zolf catches the brief worry in them before it's carefully tucked away. 

"Oscar-" the word slips out as a means of reassurance, of apology, before Zolf remembers that this is a mistake.

Wilde's face freezes over, like two doors slamming shut, and he straightens his shoulders again. 

"Right," he says, softly, at least giving Zolf this. "Your report if you please."

"Right," Zolf echoes, refraining from reminding Wilde that opening up isn't a bad thing, not right now when it would make things only worse. He knows when to pick his battles and this isn’t the time for one. Instead he recounts what happened on Shoin's island.


End file.
